In the Wake of Passion
by DarkObsessions
Summary: SPOILERS for season 3! In the wake of Vane's execution, Eleanor is tormented by the decisions she's made. She struggles to reconcile her emotions but finds herself overcome by guilt and despair.


****DISCLAIMER**** : I don't own Black Sails. It is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only. 

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"I'd like to walk the beaches for a time..." Eleanor stated solemnly.

"Of course." Woodes said gently as he gestured for one of the soldiers to accompany her.

Eleanor shook her head. "Unattended." She clarified.

Woodes frowned. "I hardly think that's a good idea." In all the time he'd known her, he'd yet to leave her unsupervised. Despite their allegiance and his fondness for her, she was still a criminal, still an erroneous woman who's loyalty could never be completely trusted.

Hurt and anger flashed in her eyes. "I've just orchestrated the murder of a man I loved for most of my life. I've done so because it was a death that needed to occur in order for you to succeed. I would think such sacrifice would warrant me a few moments of uninterrupted solitude. Does it not?"

Somewhat swayed by the truth of her words, he nodded. "Very well. Be back before sunset. I'll have a guard waiting by the gate for your return."

She wandered for the better part of an hour. Lost in her own melancholy an inner musings, she did not realize where she'd gone until she found herself standing on the banks of a place she'd long ago tried to forget.

It was a quiet little stretch of sand overlooked by the ocean and backed by the jungle. Far enough away from the town and docks, there wasn't another soul for miles.

Years ago, she used to come to this place looking for Charles. He'd often come here when he'd wanted peace, a break from the intensity of the island. It was a place he'd allowed her to share with him. A place that housed many cherished moments, memories that now threatened to tear her apart.

She'd justified her actions with logic and reason, Nassau could never have survived an outright siege. With Charles' death, she'd spared the island that blood-soaked fate. But that knowledge left her heart no less broken, her grief no less consuming.

This place was entrenched with him, so indelibly tied to his memory. It choked her.

She cursed her unbidden feet for carrying her here, raked her fingers through her disheveled hair and fought to maintain control. Even as her traitorous eyes unleashed the first bead of salty regret, she endeavored to deny how utterly destroyed his loss had truly left her.

Finding herself in this place had thrust thoughts of him upon her, forced her to really acknowledge his passing and all it entailed. He would not come strolling around the corner. She would never again find him sitting on the beach, drinking in the tavern, or lurking in her chambers. She'd already experienced the last touch of his skin, the last growl of his voice in her ear.

The pain that accompanied this realization was staggering.

She'd never felt anything quite like it. Nothing had ever cut this deeply. Nothing had ever elicited such an inexplicable and abysmal agony.

Her knees buckled beneath her and she crashed toward the sand. Her body betrayed her, allowed a strangled sob to rise involuntarily from her lips. With that sob came others, despite her efforts to remain composed.

When a keening bay met her ears, it took her a moment to realize that the sound had come from her own chest.

She had thought herself above all this, hadn't fully understood what he'd meant to her until it was far too late. It hadn't truly struck her until she'd stood in this wretched place and been faced with the reality of life without him in it.

Before all this, she'd believed herself strong enough stand in that square and dispassionately watch him die for his sins. She thought she could walk away from it all feeling vindicated and relieved, for the greater good. She'd wanted so badly for that to be the case, needed it to be the case.

But it hadn't been. She didn't feel that way. She felt ravaged and broken, as though a part of her had died with him.

Perhaps it had.

It would be fitting.

As the sun began to set, she remained curled upon the sand in a tormented heap. She now understood the gravity of her actions. She may well have saved Nassau from the bloodshed of war, but she'd sacrificed everything that mattered to achieve that end. She barely recognized the person she'd become. She barely recognized Nassau.

This wasn't what she'd intended. Nassau was meant to grow strong and independent. It was meant to be the start of a new world. But she'd never intended to steal Nassau's heart or cause her to mutate into yet another unremarkable English isle. She'd only wanted to see the island made legitimate in the eyes of the crown. She hadn't realized that legitimacy meant the surrender of all autonomy and originality. She hadn't realized what they'd try to make her into.

Charles had warned her, but she hadn't wanted to believe him.

Now there was nothing left here for her. No position, no authority, no love.

She would have thought the first two losses would be felt more keenly than the last, but she'd have been wrong. It was the love that she ached for now. The man she'd betrayed to bring about a world she'd never wanted, was the very same man she yearned for now.

It was a revelation that stung, cut more viciously than any blade could have. When all was said and done, she was not the indomitable pragmatist she'd always believed herself to be. She was simply a woman who'd lost everything.

Rising from the ground with sand and salt still clinging to her clothes and skin, she moved to stand at the water's edge. Standing there, she contemplated the beauty and insanity of the life she'd lived. She'd raged against the common restraints of her sex and made something of herself. She'd achieved what no woman before her had managed. She'd been a queen in her own right, accomplishing and demolishing much in her time. She'd also tasted of freedom, lust and the unconditional nature of love.

It was a life well lived. Perhaps that was enough.

She did not believe there was anything beyond this life. But if she was wrong and there was, it would not be heaven for which she was bound. If that other world was real, then she and Charles would both be similarly bound to that inferno.

And if this was true, she swore she'd find him amidst those flames.

With tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes, she hiked up her skirts.

And walked into the sea.


End file.
